The OZ's Greatest Treasure
by N'kala
Summary: Ambrose holds the key to the O.Z.'s greatest treasure. Some people will do anything to possess it.
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** The O.Z.'s Greatest Treasure  
><strong>Author:<strong> N'kala  
><strong>Disclaimer:<strong> Not mine.  
><strong>Summary:<strong> Ambrose holds the key to the O.Z.'s greatest treasure. Some people will do anything to possess it.  
><strong>Author's Note:<strong> I began this story back in 2008 and picked it up again when I recently re-watched Tin Man. It isn't finished, but I hope by posting it that it will push me into finishing this one. BTW- this is set 2 months after the eclipse, and I tend to set my own canon. No relationships or slash to be found here! See end for more notes.

**The O.Z.'s Greatest Treasure**

Chapter One

Strong, steady footsteps echoed off of the walls, sending the palace servants scattering to the side. Wyatt Cain nodded sharply at them, his coat flaring behind him as he strode purposefully down the corridor through the path cleared for him.

Only two months had passed since the eclipse, but so much had happened that it sometimes seemed to Cain that two _annuals _had passed. Between his duties as the head of the palace guard and his appointment of lead consultant in rebuilding the police force in Central City, Cain barely found time to spend with his son. It did help, though, that Jeb had accepted the position of royal bodyguard to DG. With Jeb in the palace, Cain got to see more of him than he would have otherwise.

Cain paused before a large, heavy oak door. Adjusting the hat on his head, he pushed it open and stepped inside.

Twenty people were milling about in the large, ornate conference room, speaking lightly with one another. Upon Cain's entrance, they moved to the elongated table in the center of the room and claimed seats. Cain nodded to several men and women as he walked by, heading for the empty chair at the head of the table.

"Good morning," he greeted everyone, sinking into a chair. "I know everyone has a full schedule with preparing for the upcoming visit, so let's make this brief."

A few winces met his words. Cain understood how they felt; large gatherings were always a security nightmare, but with all of the noble houses and several royal visitors from neighboring countries arriving for the celebration that the queen had planned, Cain's team had been working overtime to prepare. It didn't help, either, that there were still renegade Longcoats still at large, terrorizing the countryside and making threats against the royal family. Cain certainly had plenty to keep him busy.

Cain glanced at two of his more experienced guards; both men a little older than Cain. "Karson, Dell; anything of concern to report?"

The two looked at one another. As personal guards to the queen and Ahamo, any security concerns of theirs were high priority.

"We have nothing new to report," Dell answered for them both. "Both his and her highnesses are busy with the restoration of the O.Z. Neither have had much opportunity to leave the palace grounds."

"Nor has the princess Azkadellia," Summer spoke up. A young woman and relatively new to the palace, she was one of the very few who were willing to serve as bodyguard to the formerly-possessed princess. "She rarely leaves the east wing of the palace. Not many people are ready to approach her just yet."

"Just be careful," Cain warned her. "Once people get over their fears, we might start seeing some problems." He turned to his son, sitting a few chairs away. "What about DG?"

Jeb leaned forward and clasped his hands. "The team you assigned last week has helped. DG still hates having 'babysitters', as she calls us, but now that more of us are watching her, it's harder for her to slip away."

Cain nodded. "Then we'll keep up the detail until she's more settled." He shifted in his seat, preparing himself for the next report. He'd been saving it last for a reason. Icy blue eyes sought out an attentive pair of hazel eyes. "Cam? Dare I ask?"

The thirty-annual-old guard folded his arms and leaned back, scowling. "I want reassignment, Cain."

Cain sighed heavily. "It's only been two weeks, Cam. Surely he's not _that_ bad?"

Cam glared at Cain. "Easy for _you_ to say! He's impossible! When he's not evading me, he's using me for some crazy experiment!" Cam took a deep breath and tried to calm himself. "Don't get me wrong. As a person, I think he's great. He's a good man. But as his guard? He's a nightmare!"

Cain rubbed his face wearily. "I don't suppose anyone here would like to volunteer to serve as bodyguard to the queen's high advisor?"

Silence answered him. Cain looked around the table, taking in the averted gazes.

"Oh, come on!" Cain exclaimed. "He's a _scientist_! I refuse to believe I need to reassign him a bodyguard for a _fourth_ time!"

"Why does he even need one?" Kerrin, Ambrose's second guard, asked. "He's not even royalty."

"And none of the other advisors are assigned guards," Summer pointed out. "What makes Ambrose so different?"

"Because Ambrose holds the key to the O.Z.'s greatest treasure."

Silence descended on the room once more. All eyes turned to Karson.

Karson met Cain's inquiring eyes. "I heard the queen mention it to her consort annuals ago; before the witch. She stated that the high advisor held the key to the greatest treasure in all the O.Z., and that he must be protected as if her were royalty himself. That's why he needs his own guard."

"Treasure?" Jeb spoke up, confused. "But the royal vault has guards of its own."

"It sounds like the queen was talking about a different sort of treasure entirely," Kerrin replied thoughtfully. "Maybe one no one knows about?"

"Regardless, the fact remains that Ambrose needs a guard," Cain stated, halting the growing murmurs and speculations. "I don't suppose a detail like DG's would do any better?"

"Not bloody likely," Dell told him. "If you can't find _one_ volunteer, how do you think you could get _more_?"

"Wishful thinking?" Cain muttered, mostly to himself. Raising his voice, he addressed the group. "So not a single one of you brave men and women are willing to keep an eye on one little scientist?"

Cam scowled again. "I'll make a deal with you, Cain. If you agree to be his guard for two whole weeks without a problem, then I'll get some volunteers to do a detail with me."

"And my other duties?" Cain asked.

"Surely you have some people who can step in for now," Kerrin said. "If you can go two weeks without a problem, then I'll be on that detail too."

Cain looked at the expectant faces of his people. "Two weeks? No problems?"

"No losing him," Cam said.

"No losing your temper, either," Kerrin added.

"Put up with his experiments."

"Deal with some practical jokes."

"Make sure his orders are clear."

"Learn when to duck."

"Don't let him goad you into sparring."

"All right!" Cain exclaimed. "Two weeks. You've got a deal! I have a meeting with him in an hour to discuss security for the dignitaries visiting us, so I'll let him know then. Now, on that topic . . ."

* * *

><p>Ambrose emerged from the palace and moved gracefully along the path to one of the royal gardens. Pausing, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. The sweet scents or roses and orchids in the air washed over him, calming his frayed nerves. Opening his eyes, the advisor continued on the path but at a more sedate pace.<p>

He knew he should be grateful that he lived such a good life in the palace; certainly better than most, especially after the eclipse. Since regaining his brain, however, it seemed as though he'd also regained the weight of duty and responsibility, and all that went with it.

Not that Ambrose was one to shirk his duty; not at all. It was more about what went with that duty that had driven him for a walk in the garden.

His personal guard's angry words still rang in Ambrose's ears. The scientist regretted pushing the man so far; Cam was actually quite good at his job.

_Too_ good. With Cam dogging his heels, Ambrose couldn't get any of his work done. Something had to be done about that.

As Ambrose followed a curve in the path, he wondered if he could convince the queen that he didn't need a bodyguard after all.

"Which ones, Lisi?"

"I'm . . . I'm not sure. Does it matter?"

Ambrose glanced to his left and spied two servant girls. He recognized them at once; the two girls were sisters who worked with the housekeeping staff, and at the moment they looked worried.

"Good morning, ladies," Ambrose addressed them, coming closer. "Can I be of some assistance?"

Both girls gave a start at the advisor's sudden appearance, then bowed at the waist.

"Good morning, Lord Ambrose," the older girl, Lisi, replied. "We apologize for disturbing you."

"Nonsense," Ambrose replied, grinning broadly. He waved a hand at her. "And no more of this silly formality. I am just Ambrose."

"Yes, sir . . . Ambrose," the fifteen-annual-old girl replied. "My sister and I just came from the princess Azkadellia's rooms. She's feeling so sad at the moment, and we wished to cheer her up with some flowers, only . . ."

"Only you don't know which kind," Ambrose finished. His smile softened. "What a wonderful thought; I know that the princess will be very grateful for your efforts."

Lisi and her sister flushed with pleasure at the praise.

"I do happen to know that Princess Azkadellia is quite fond of the white roses just over there." Ambrose pointed back the way he'd come. "In fact, she was sitting there just the other day with a mug of sweet tea, enjoying those very flowers."

The girls lit up with excitement and turned to one another. "Karyme, you cut some roses," Lisi told her sister. "I'll fetch some tea and meet you at the lady's door."

As the younger girl scurried away, Lisi bowed to Ambrose. "Thank you, sir, for your help."

Ambrose shrugged. "What help? I only offered an observation." He bowed to her. "Good morning."

Leaving the girls to their task, Ambrose continued on down the path. The quiet sounds of nature filled the air once more. Time slipped away, leaving the advisor with badly needed peace; something he had missed since his time as Glitch. Ambrose spotted a collection of delicate yellow orchids and approached them. Leaning forward, he inhaled their scent and smiled faintly as one more elusive memory clicked into place.

"We need to talk."

Ambrose suppressed his start of surprise and turned. Wyatt Cain was standing behind him, his arms folded and a no-nonsense glare on his face.

"Good morning, Cain," Ambrose said, straightening. He smoothed a hand down the front of his jacket. "Er . . . yes, we _do_ need to talk. That's why we have a meeting scheduled in forty-five minutes."

"It's ten minutes, and that's not what I meant." Cain reached out and hooked a hand around Ambrose's upper arm, guiding him down the path. "We can talk as we go. C'mon."

"_Ten_ minutes?" Ambrose patted the pockets in his jacket and trousers, fumbling as he hunted for his timepiece. "Surely you're mistaken."

"Nope," Cain replied. "And this conversation needs to happen now. Just how many personal bodyguards did you go through _before_ you lost your marbles?"

Ambrose gave up looking for his watch and frowned. "So Cam finally asked? I was wondering when that would happen."

Cain, his hand still grasping Ambrose's arm, halted and brought Ambrose around to face him. "This isn't funny, headcase. _Three guards_ in _two months_?"

"You can't count Matthew," Ambrose argued. "He had trouble with glitching, before _and_ after my surgery. That one wasn't my fault!"

"All right, I'll give you Matthew, but Kerrin and Cam?" Cain challenged. "Your reputation is starting to precede you. I couldn't get a single volunteer to guard you."

Ambrose lit up. "Really?"

Cain glared at him. "_Not_ good news, sweetheart. The queen says you need a guard, then you need a guard. The _problem_ is, no one wants the job."

"Ah, but you see, I'm going to talk to her majesty about that," Ambrose countered. He began walking again, trusting Cain to follow. "It's an embarrassment, really, having a guard. No other advisor does, you know. Well, of course, _you_ know, you assign the guards. I fail to see why it's necessary. I _can_ take care of myself."

"Beside the point," Cain replied, surreptitiously guiding Ambrose inside the palace and herding him in the right direction. "Do you think maybe you need one now because of your role in bringing down the witch?"

"What role?" Ambrose asked, turning a corner. "DG saved the O.Z. by finding the emerald. Yes, she lost it, but she got through to her sister in the end. You, well, you protected all of us. You got us into the tower, _twice_ I might add. Raw was the one that made it possible for us to learn about the Sun Seeder and stop it. Do any of _you_ have guards?" Ambrose stopped abruptly, frowning in thought. Cain had to dart to the side to avoid knocking the advisor to the ground as Ambrose continued.

"Well, DG does, but she's a princess; she _has _to have guards," he said. "You're the head of them, so I guess you wouldn't need one yourself. Raw doesn't! He's not back from his village yet, though. So you see, Cain, that can't be it. I didn't do anything but wander off and get into trouble."

"Hey!" Cain grabbed Ambrose's arms and gave him a forceful shake. "Don't say that! Don't _ever_ say that! You did more for than that for the O.Z. and for us. How do you think I got us _into_ the tower that first time? And the Sun Seeder? It wasn't Raw who found those codes. It was _you_. You were every bit as instrumental in saving the O.Z. as the rest of us, so I don't want to hear you talking like that again, got it?"

Ambrose blinked wide, brown eyes at Cain, too stunned for words.

A door nearby opened, and Queen Olivia emerged into the hall, her trademark lavender eyes studying both men. A faint smile tugged at her lips. "Good morning, gentlemen. I hope I'm not disturbing you?"

Cain released Ambrose and bowed low. "Of course not, your majesty. I'm sorry we're late." From the corner of his eye, he watched as Ambrose recovered enough to bow as well, though the shock never quite left his eyes.

"Not at all," the queen replied. "I only just arrived myself. Though I trust Mr. Cain has made his point?"

Cain took some comfort in the fact that Ambrose's blush was significantly deeper than his own.

"Er, about that, your majesty," Ambrose said. "I was hoping to discuss the matter of my needing a personal guard."

The queen waved both men into the room she had just come from. Cain nodded to Karson on his way in, ignoring the spark of amusement in the guard's eyes.

"Oh?" the queen said to Ambrose.

"Yes." Ambrose straightened. "Your majesty, I would like to request the dismissal of my personal guard. I do not feel that such a thing is necessary."

"I see." Lavender eyes flickered over to blue. "Lost another one, has he?"

"I'm afraid so," Cain answered.

Ambrose shot Cain a dirty look. "Nevertheless, I fail to see the necessity. I am more than capable of looking after myself. Assigning a guard would simply be a waste of manpower."

The queen fixed Ambrose with a firm gaze. "I believe we've already had this discussion."

Ambrose bowed his head slightly, but bravely carried on. "Yes, your majesty, we have, but I still fail to see why I merit a guard. I'm no different than your other advisors."

Queen Olivia gave him a soft smile and lightly patted Ambrose's cheek. "I'm afraid that's a point we will continue to disagree on."

Ambrose's cheeks turned pink.

The queen drew back and turned to Cain. "Who have you assigned to replace Mr. Stevens?"

Cain opened his mouth to reply, but Ambrose, seeing his chance, took it.

"I'm afraid there's no one available, your majesty," the scientist cut in. "Cain told me as much."

"That's not _exactly_ true," Cain contradicted him.

Ambrose fully turned to face Cain, confusion on his face. "You said you had no one to assign to me."

"No," Cain drawled out slowly. "I said I _couldn't_ _get_ anyone to do it. I never said I _had_ no one."

"Well, then who?" Ambrose asked. He stared at Cain, studying the older man's face when the answer suddenly clicked into place. Ambrose began to shake his head, dismay dawning on his face. "No. Oh no. You can't be serious."

Cain shrugged. "Sorry, sweetheart."

Ambrose's head swiveled back and forth between Cain and the queen. "But . . . you can't . . . your duties . . ."

"Taken care of," Cain replied.

"But . . . but . . ." Ambrose sputtered.

"You have made your bed, Ambrose, and now you must lie in it," the queen stated. "I'm sure that Mr. Cain will do just fine. Now, let's discuss the arrangements being made to accommodate our guests."

The three moved to a round table and sat down, Ambrose struggling to set aside his disagreement for the discussion at hand.

"I reviewed some of our plans with the palace guard," Cain began. "We're going to bring in some Tin Men to help while your guests are here. I understand that the royalty from the neighboring kingdoms will be bringing their own guard?"

"Custom dictates it," Ambrose confirmed. "We will be receiving the king and queen from Pharos, who will be bringing a complement of twenty guards. The queen of Elysia is the second cousin to our queen; she'll bring five of her own, but as blood kin, she will need five more provided by us."

Cain nodded, pulling papers from his pocket and flipping through them. "That matches what I have. And the king and prince from Saltz with bring twelve?"

Ambrose nodded. "Correct."

"Security for the noble houses follows a separate custom," the queen told Cain. "Each of the six houses require two guards and two servants. Ambrose can coordinate that with you, but all four will need to wear a sash with their assigned house's color to show who they are assisting." She turned to Ambrose. "Do we still have those sashes?"

Ambrose nodded again. "I found them yesterday where we left them, and I took them to the head of household for touching up."

"Wonderful," Queen Olivia said. She turned back to Cain. "Instruct whoever you assign to do the same with their formal uniforms. They'll be wearing them for the full three weeks."

Cain scribbled himself a note. "Yes ma'am."

"And do the same yourself," Olivia continued, a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. "I dare say that an honored hero of the O.Z. should look his best."

Cain ignored Ambrose's smirk and met the queen's eyes. "Of course, your majesty."

The queen stood, bringing the other two to their feet. "I'll leave the two of you to finish planning the security details, shall I? I promised my girls a walk in the gardens before lunch."

"Of course, your majesty," Ambrose replied, bowing low.

Olivia looked at Cain. "Mr. Cain, may I have a word before I go?"

"Yes, ma'am." Cain shrugged at Ambrose's questioning eyes and followed the queen into the hall. Queen Olivia waved Karson into the room, presumably to keep an eye on the inventor. The queen waited until the door was securely shut before speaking.

"Mr. Cain, I wanted to speak with you regarding Ambrose," she began. "I do not know how much experience you have in working with courtiers, but I feel it necessary to warn you that my Ambrose is . . . a little different."

Cain smiled despite himself. "A little, your majesty."

The queen returned the smile. "He's never been one to fully conform, which is one of the reasons he's so valuable to me as an advisor." She grew more serious. "Do not be fooled, Mr. Cain. Ambrose grossly underestimates his worth to others, and he'll do everything he can to make you underestimate it, too. Do not be swayed; he does not know or remember, but there were attempts on his life before the witch's reign. I hope, after all these annuals, that that's all in the past, but I will not gamble with Ambrose's life."

"Neither will I, your majesty," Cain replied. "I don't know Ambrose very well, but I _do_ know Glitch. Glitch is a good, honorable man, and if he was only half the man that Ambrose is, then your judgment certainly isn't misplaced. You have my word, your highness, that I will protect him. With my life, if necessary."

Olivia's smile was faint, but Cain could see it. "Let us hope it doesn't come to that," she said. "You, too, are an honorable man, and I would hate to lose you as well."

Cain watched her go, then returned to the room where he'd left Ambrose, waving Karson on as he passed. Ambrose looked up from the papers on the table before him. "Is everything all right?"

"Everything's fine," Cain replied, sitting in his chair. "The queen just wanted to talk about our new arrangement."

Ambrose leaned back in his seat. "And thank you for that ambush, by the way. Why didn't you tell me sooner that you were going to be my next guard?"

"What, and miss _that_ performance?" Cain answered. "I needed to get my entertainment out of this _some_how."

Ambrose folded his arms. "So it's _entertainment_ you're looking for, is it? Well, Tin Man, I'll be sure to make your job as _entertaining_ as I possibly can."

The mischievous gleam in the scientist's brown eyes sent a sudden wave of unease through the former tin man.

* * *

><p>AN: A few more things to note. I don't do het or slash, but I really love bromances and friendships, so you'll be seeing quite a bit of that. Also, if anything seems OOC or unusual, bear with me as I work through the story. I tend to forge my own path in this fandom, so if you're a stickler to canon (not that there's much), turn back now. Finally, in my 'verse, the queen's name is Olivia. It's the name I prefer to use.

Hope you enjoy what you find here!


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

The courier scurried nervously through the large, cavernous halls resplendent with tapestries and art. Decorated predominately with reds and golds, splashes of blue and green caught his eyes, breaking the monotony. Tall sculptures of warriors in the throes of battle dotted the halls here and there, as if standing guard over the lord of the manor and his treasures. The courier's footsteps echoed eerily around him, spurring him on further to his destination.

He came to a halt before two guards standing in front of giant, oaken doors. Eyes flitting about nervously, the courier stammered, "I-I have a message for his lordship."

The guard on his right stared at him for a long, uncomfortable moment before finally opening the door. Mumbling his thanks, the courier entered the room.

The room was a large study, lavishly decorated with priceless books and more sculptures. A fire crackled in an enormous brick fireplace, casting a warm glow in the dimly lit room. The courier's eyes traveled from the fire to a sculpture of a tall man in a regal pose, his gaze forever captured in a look of haughty disdain, as if disgusted that someone so lowly as the courier should deign to enter his domain.

A slight movement on the other side of the room drew the courier's attention to another imposing figure. Eyes alighting on the current lord of the manor, the courier dropped to his knees and bowed low.

"Your lordship," he greeted.

The lord approached the courier, pausing just before him. The courier heard the lord's silken robes rustle inches from his head and tensed.

"Jeremiah," the lord's deep voice rumbled softly in the room. "What news have you brought me?"

"M-My lord, I have heard something that will bring you the power and riches you so rightly deserve," Jeremiah stammered breathlessly.

"Oh?" the lord said. "Is it the reason you broke cover and came racing here without so much as a 'by your leave'?"

Jeremiah reddened, curling a little more into himself. "I . . . I took every precaution, my lord. I knew it was important for you to know."

"Very well, then," the lord replied. "I'll hear what you have to say, but _I'll_ be the one to decide if it was worth the risk."

"Yes, my lord," Jeremiah answered. "I've heard tell that the House of Gale possesses untold wealth. Wonderful treasures. A mere handful would turn even the most destitute peasant into a king."

"It has long been known how wealthy the House of Gale is," the lord said dismissively. "It is also well known that their vaults are heavily guarded _and_ protected by enchantments, and that only blood relatives may access it. If this is all the information you have for me-."

"There's a key, my lord!" Jeremiah blurted out. "You _can_ get the treasure! The queen's high advisor, Lord Ambrose!"

"A ransom?" the lord asked.

"Even better, my lord." Jeremiah risked a glance up at the man standing before him. "Ambrose himself holds the key to the O.Z.'s treasure! The queen said so herself! If you were to have access to Ambrose, you could take the O.Z.'s wealth for yourself."

The lord studied the courier for a long moment. Uncomfortable, Jeremiah dropped his head again and waited.

"You are certain of your information?" the lord finally said.

Jeremiah looked up again. "I'd stake my life on it, my lord."

A menacing spark flickered in the lord's eyes. "You already have. You will bring Ambrose to me. Do _not_ blow your cover. Failure means your life. Go."

Jeremiah bowed low, climbed to his feet, and hurried from the room.

* * *

><p>"I'm going to kill him."<p>

Jeb rolled his eyes. "Dad, it's been two days. You've been saying that every fifteen minutes since you took the bet."

Cain glared at his son as they strode through the hall. "Well, this time I mean it. It's bad enough that he can't keep a regular guard, but to lose the night shift? If this keeps up, I'm going to have to handcuff him to me and move into his suite!"

Jeb smirked. "He'd be out of the cuffs five minutes after you fell asleep."

Cain shook his head. "How can such a likeable guy be such a pain in the-."

"Good morning, Mr. Cain." Ahamo appeared from around the next corner, smiling broadly. He nodded to Jeb. "And Mr. Cain. How are you both this morning?"

"Homicidal," Jeb answered with a grin, bowing with his father.

Cain elbowed his son. "Fine, your majesty."

Ahamo waved a hand. "Please, Ahamo will be fine. I haven't been so formally addressed in a long time, and before that I was just a regular guy. Er . . . might I ask why you feel quite so murderous this early in the day?"

"Ambrose," Jeb supplied helpfully, ignoring the dirty look his father shot him.

Ahamo chuckled. "You're a brave man, Mr. Cain. Ambrose can be quite creative when he puts his mind to it. I personally try to remain on his good side."

"Yes, well, I tend to live dangerously," Cain replied.

Ahamo nodded. "Just don't be fooled. Ambrose will try your patience and push all of your buttons, but guys like him are rare breeds. When you're feeling particularly violent, take a step back and look at the larger picture. If he's driving you away, there's a reason for it."

Cain filed Ahamo's advice into the back of his mind. "I'll agree on the rare breed, but I'd have to add a 'thank the gods' to that. Guys like Ambrose would make me go bald."

Ahamo gave Cain a secretive smile. "You might be surprised."

"I doubt I could handle another surprise," Cain replied. "I don't suppose a guy like you could tell a guy like me where I can find a guy like Ambrose?"

Ahamo's smile widened. "As a matter of fact, I'm headed that way right now. Would you like to join me?"

"Er . . . sure." Cain and Jeb turned and began to walk with Ahamo back the way they had come. Cain cleared his throat. "If you don't mind my asking, how do you know where Ambrose is?"

"It's eight-thirty on a Wednesday morning," Ahamo replied easily.

Cain waited for more, exchanging a confused look for a helpless shrug from Jeb. "And?" he prompted.

Ahamo paused in front of a pair of doors that Cain recognized as leading to the palace kitchens. He fixed both Cains with a suddenly serious look.

"What I'm about the show you is a secret," the consort stated. "I discovered it by accident and was sworn to secrecy. Not even my wife and daughters know about this. Before we go in, you must swear to me that what you learn here goes no further than the kitchen walls. Can you do that?"

Still confused and more than a little curious, both Cains nodded. Ahamo studied them for another moment, then knocked on the kitchen doors four times. After a pause, he knocked twice, paused again, then knocked three times. A couple minutes passed, then Cain heard four more knocks answer. Ahamo knocked once. The sound of locks sliding back sounded, and the door opened.

Intrigued, Cain and Jeb followed Ahamo into the kitchen. One of the servants who Cain had only ever seen in passing shut and locked the door behind them.

"What do you think's going on?" Jeb whispered.

Cain shook his head, trailing after Ahamo past appliances and cookware. "I have no idea. I'm just wondering how Ambrose is involved."

The trio halted abruptly. Cain looked over Ahamo's shoulder, icy blue eyes landing on a familiar figure. Ambrose's slender frame was standing at a large counter, surrounded by at least thirty children and several adults.

"Who are those kids?" Jeb whispered.

"The children of the palace servants," Ahamo whispered back.

Cain watched as Ambrose tossed some ingredients into a bowl and mixed them together. He could see the advisor's mouth move; could hear the soft drone of Ambrose's voice. Realization hit him the same time Ahamo's words reached his ears.

"Every Wednesday morning, Ambrose teaches the children how to make a dish," the consort whispered. "When he's done, the children get a share of whatever he makes. As I understand it, it started with Ambrose sneaking down here to fix himself a snack. He was caught by the head chef's son, who is actually right there." Ahamo pointed to a young man around Jeb's age, who was watching the show and smiling. "As time passed, Jon brought more and more friends until it became a secret tradition. To my knowledge, only the kitchen staff, the children, and now us are aware of it."

Ambrose scooped globs of whatever he was making into baking pans. He rubbed his nose absently, sending a smear of flour across his cheek. Several children giggled at the sight.

"And that's it!" the advisor exclaimed. "Who wants one?"

A chorus of 'me!'s and raised hands answered him. Grinning broadly, brown eyes sparkling, Ambrose placed the pans in one oven and removed more from a second. Using a spatula, he scooped several of what look like cookies onto a plate and passed it to Jon.

"Careful!" he called as the children swarmed the head chef's son. "They're still hot!"

Ahamo patted Cain on the shoulder. "I need to get going; I'm meeting Liv in ten minutes. I'll see you later."

"Thank you," Cain told him.

"I have to go, too," Jeb told his father. "My shift starts in ten minutes." A mischievous glimmer shone in his eyes. "Should I wish _you_ luck, or _him_?"

Cain lightly smacked the back of Jeb's head. "Get outta here before I trade details with you," he growled playfully.

Jeb saluted, grinning broadly, and hurried after Ahamo.

Cain moved forward, wading through children and parents. Pausing at one counter, Cain spied Ambrose's abandoned topcoat. Picking it up, he slung it over his arm and approached Ambrose.

The advisor was speaking quietly with one of the cooks, but as Cain moved closer, he glanced up.

"Cain!" Ambrose exclaimed in surprise. "Wh-What are you doing here?"

Cain raised an eyebrow. "You're here."

When no more explanation was forthcoming, Ambrose shook his head. "And?"

Cain tossed the topcoat at Ambrose, causing the scientist to fumble to catch it. "And I'm your personal guard. It's my job to be wherever you are. I thought you were a genius?"

Ambrose straightened and favored Cain with a dirty look. "You know, all of my _other_ personal guards kept their distance and treated me with respect."

"Yeah?" Cain asked. "All your other personal guards also quit after a couple weeks. I'm going with a different approach."

Ambrose shrugged into his topcoat, leaving it unbuttoned. "How very scientific of you," he muttered, running a hand through unruly brown curls.

Jon chose that moment to approach. "I'll have the next batch ready for you when you leave, Ambrose."

Ambrose smiled with wide abandon. "Excellent, Jon! Will you be accompanying me today?"

Jon shook his head. "Mother wants me to help in the kitchens today."

"She's giving you more responsibility?" Ambrose asked. "How wonderful! Well, perhaps you can go next week."

As Jon moved away, Cain cleared his throat. "And where are _we_ going?"

Ambrose's smile dimmed slightly. "_I_ am going to wash up. No matter the recipe, some of it always seems to find its way onto me. What are your plans for today?"

"That depends," Cain answered.

Ambrose maneuvered around Cain and headed for the door. "On?"

Cain kept pace with Ambrose easily. "Do we really need to go over my role as your personal guard again?"

"Only if you insist on this ridiculous arrangement," Ambrose shot back easily. He turned a corner and began to ascend an ornate staircase.

"The queen doesn't seem to think it's ridiculous," Cain stated.

"Given time, she'll realize she's wasting valuable resources on me," Ambrose assured Cain. He paused in front of his suite's door, one hand on the door handle. Brown eyes sought out blue. "You can wait here."

"Not very hospitable of you," Cain said.

Ambrose rolled his eyes. "I'm just going to shower and change. That's all. How much trouble can I get into?"

Cain lifted an eyebrow. "Do you really want me to answer that?"

"Cain!"

Both men turned at the call and watched as DG came storming down the hall, trailed by four guards. Three of the guards had blank expressions, but the smirk on Jeb's face didn't bode well for the conversation DG was intending to have.

Ambrose patted Cain on the shoulder. "I'll just leave you to it, shall I?"

"Coward," Cain muttered as Ambrose slipped into his suite. Drawing himself to full height, he met DG's angry blue eyes fearlessly.

"Something I can do for you, Princess?" he asked.

DG came to a halt inches from Cain, eyes blazing. "We need to talk about these babysitters you assigned," she fumed, jerking a thumb back over her shoulder.

Cain sighed heavily.

* * *

><p>Ambrose peered down the hallway from an empty broom closet some distance away from his suite. Though DG's timing had been perfect, and the secret tunnel out of his rooms were convenient, Ambrose knew Cain wouldn't be distracted for very long.<p>

Finding the coast clear, Ambrose slipped into the hall and silently moved back toward the kitchens. He made sure to check for Cain before turning corners; it wouldn't do to go through the hard work of escaping from Cain to be caught by the man now.

Ambrose quickly walked past the staircase that led up to his suite, barely taking notice of the silence that had fallen above. His mind was intent on his destination as it drew nearer.

He move gracefully through the hall, silently congratulating himself on a job well done as he reached a hand for the door handle to the kitchen.

"'Bout time, Headcase. What kept you?"

Ambrose jumped and spun around, his face white. Cain emerged from around another corner, arms crossed. On the floor near his feet was a covered basket Ambrose recognized as belonging to Jon's mother.

"C-Cain!" Ambrose squeaked in a decidedly undignified way. "Wh-What . . . how . . .?"

Cain leaned against the wall. "What am I doing here, or how did I know you'd be here?"

Ambrose nodded dumbly.

"Simple." Cain picked up the basket at his feet and, moving forward, thrust it into Ambrose's hands. "It's my job. Oh, and Glitch? You might want to get someone to check the structural integrity o the secret passage out of your suite. It could do with some repair."

Ambrose gave Cain a dumbfounded look. "You . . . you _know_ about that?"

"It's my job," Cain repeated. He examined Ambrose's attire; worn trousers and shoes, an old button down shirt with sleeves rolled past his elbows to reveal a familiar red and black striped shirt underneath. "Heading out?"

"I-I . . . no . . . I mean yes," Ambrose stammered. "Or, I was, but I _can't_."

"Why not?" Cain asked.

"They're expecting _me_," Ambrose stated. "I can't just show up with _you_. They'll think , , , they'll _know_. . . ."

"Know what?" Cain pressed.

Ambrose's gaze dropped to the basket in his hands. "Cain, _please_. This is something I _have_ to do alone. I can't show up with a bodyguard. I _can't_."

Cain heard the plea in Ambrose's voice and eased his tone. "How about showing up with a _friend_?"

Ambrose looked up at him.

Cain took a step closer. "You know I can't let you just run off without a guard."

"You _could_," Ambrose countered under his breath.

"But I won't," Cain stated. "It's your call, Glitch. I can go as your friend and help you do whatever it is you need to do, or you can ditch me and I'll find you anyway and be your embarrassing bodyguard. What'll it be?"

Ambrose's shoulders slumped, defeated. "All right, Cain, you win. Just do me a favor?"

"What's that?" Cain asked.

"Try not to be so . . . _you_," Ambrose replied.

Cain let out a huff of laughter. "We'll see."

* * *

><p>end chapter two<p> 


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

Of all possible thoughts that had crossed Cain's mind as he walked to Central City with Ambrose, what they ended up doing was the absolute last thing he had expected.

Ambrose had led the way through the streets of the city, smiling and nodding to several friendly men and women who called out greetings to him. Clearly, Ambrose was a regular visitor to the city, though Cain couldn't quite recall any of his men reporting any excursions into the city. He wondered if the queen herself was aware of Ambrose's trips, and if she knew he visited often enough to be recognized on sight and greeted by name by half of the people living there.

Cain kept silent, allowing Ambrose to lead him unerringly through the marketplace and into an area of the city that was significantly more run-down than the rest. He recalled reports crossing his desk from the ragged force of Tin Men that reported Longcoat sightings, homicides, and vapor usage in this same area, and a knot of unease grew in the pit of his stomach. The idea that Ambrose came to this area regularly, and without anyone's apparent knowledge, did not sit well with Cain. Cain silently vowed to keep a closer eye on his friend, even after his guard duty had been assigned to someone else.

Lost in his thoughts, Cain nearly missed when Ambrose came to an abrupt halt before a brick two-story building that had clearly seen better days. Sections of the roof had been roughly patched together, and most of the windows were boarded up. A few windows on the second floor had recently been replaced, the glass gleaming through the dingy atmosphere.

With a final look to Cain that was half-warning and half-pleading, Ambrose strode boldly inside.

The inside of the building looked remarkably better than the outside. The walls had been scrubbed clean, and the floors were swept and polished. The front room held a number of mismatched chairs and sofas situated around various tables, but rather than appear tacky, they only added to the charm of the room. Cain took all of this in as he followed Ambrose up to a counter on the far side of the room where an elderly woman sat writing in several ledgers. Upon seeing Ambrose, her face lit up into a bright smile and she came out from behind the counter to greet Ambrose with a warm hug.

"Ambrose, love!" she exclaimed. "How good to see you again!"

"You know me, Agnes dear," Ambrose replied easily. "I just can't stay away. Allow me to introduce you to a good friend of mine, Wyatt. Wyatt, this is Agnes, the owner of this remarkable establishment."

Agnes' sharp blue eyes studied Cain, missing nothing. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Wyatt."

Cain tipped his hat. "Likewise, ma'am. What, er, what exactly do you do here?"

"Agnes used to run the finest inn in Central City," Ambrose boasted proudly.

"That was before the Sorceress," Agnes said pointedly. "Now it's a shelter for anyone displaced by her reign."

"Agnes puts them up, feeds them, and finds work until they can support themselves again," Ambrose continued. "She also helped the resistance and smuggled some prisoners to safety."

Cain idly wondered if Glitch had been one of those prisoners she had helped, but knew better than to ask.

"Until the Longcoats found out and decided to do something about it," Agnes said bitterly. "They came in with their weapons and tore the place apart. I've only just been able to begin repairs; many volunteers have come in and helped me rebuild."

"And we'll have you back in business in no time!" Ambrose announced cheerfully.

"Why not petition the queen for assistance?" Cain wanted to know. "Surely, since the damage was incurred as a result of resistance-."

Agnes waved a hand. "The queen has enough to concern herself with. Besides; how could one old woman merit an audience with the queen when there are more people needing help?"

"Well . . . surely-." Cain tossed a glance to Ambrose. The words died on his lips at the stern look on Ambrose's face. Ambrose lightly shook his head.

"Um . . ." Cain turned back to Agnes. "What can we do to help?"

"I can always use an extra pair of hands fixing the damage to the building," Agnes replied brightly. She turned to Ambrose. "The kitchen's running as smooth as ever, love. Can you work on the heating next? With winter coming soon, I'd hate for it to fail."

"No problem!" Ambrose said. "I'll leave the cookies with you, then, shall I?"

"If you know what's good for you!" Agnes replied. "Now scoot! You know the way! Oh, and take your friend to Michael. He'll get Wyatt sorted out."

Ambrose grabbed Wyatt's arm and, with a cheerful wave, dragged the former Tin Man into the next room.

"_Great Gale_, Cain!" he hissed through a frozen smile and clenched teeth. "I thought you promised not to tell anyone who I was!"

"Relax," Cain said, tugging his arm free. "I wasn't going to tell her. I just wanted to ask her if you'd offered to help."

Ambrose snorted indelicately. "Of _course_ I did. Several times, actually, but she wouldn't hear of it. Agnes is a proud woman, but she's doing all right. The most help she'll accept is volunteer, so that's the help I give."

"What _do_ they know about you, then?" Cain asked.

Ambrose paused and pushed Cain down a side hallway. "They know I work at the palace. However, to everyone here, I fix mechanical and electrical things, and tinker with a few machines. That's _all_. If they knew my title . . ." he trailed off.

"What?" Cain prompted.

Ambrose shook his head. "Nothing."

Cain folded his arms. "So they have no idea that half of the machines in this building you're just 'tinkering' with are actually ones whose designs you've taken and improved on?"

Ambrose blinked at Cain, stunned. "How did you know that?"

Cain gave Ambrose a pointed look. "It's my-."

"Job, yes," Ambrose finished with Cain, nodding. "Well, for now, your job will be to help with repairs to the dining room. C'mon, I'll introduce you to Michael."

* * *

><p>Ambrose sighed happily and leaned back, wiping the grease and oil from his hands with a dirty rag. More stains spotted his clothes, but the advisor didn't bother with them. Gathering the tools around him, he tucked them back into the open tool box beside him and stood, heading for the utility closet near the kitchen.<p>

As he put the tool box back in its proper place, Ambrose glanced at his timepiece. Fixing the heating system had gone faster than he'd expected. If he hurried, he could make one quick trip to his next destination and be back before Cain even noticed he'd been gone.

Quietly shutting the door to the closet, Ambrose slipped down the hall and out the back door. Once outside, he turned towards the alley and began to jog, unaware of a pair of eyes watching him.

Ambrose burst into the thickening crowd, winding through the street and around several stalls before ducking into a grocery store. He smiled broadly at the man behind the counter.

"Good day, Edgar!" he greeted.

"Ambrose!" the silver-haired man exclaimed. He moved from behind the counter and gave Ambrose a hug. "Wonderful to see you, my boy! You're early today!"

"I have several appointments this afternoon, I'm afraid," Ambrose told him. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a pouch. "Here's this week's payments. I can't thank you enough for doing this, and for so little."

Edgar let out a small huff, but took the pouch. "Little? Pah! If I could, I wouldn't even take this. I'll have the first batch delivered to the orphanage just before lunch. Agnes'll get her food before supper."

Ambrose grinned broadly. "Perfect. I wish I could stay, but I've got to run. Give my love to Sarah, won't you?"

"Of course," Edgar replied. "We'll see you next week. Maybe you can stay for lunch?"

"I look forward to it." Ambrose headed out, waving as he went.

The advisor moved easily through the streets, reaching the alley in no time at all. He was just thanking his good luck when something hard struck him from the side, sending him flying against the wall of Agnes' hotel. Ambrose let out a whoosh of air and dropped to the ground, unable to catch his breath.

Hands gripped his clothes, forcing him back onto his feet. Still dazed, Ambrose managed to lash out, kicking his assailant in the groin.

His attacker yelped in pain, his grasp loosening. Ambrose fell back onto the ground and tried to kick again, but the man recovered and moved back.

As Ambrose struggled to his feet, a glint of metal caught his attention. His attacker held a knife out, ready to strike the moment Ambrose was close.

Ambrose steadied himself, waiting for the other man to make the first move.

Tired of waiting, the other man stepped forward, swinging the knife at the advisor's chest. Ambrose jumped out of reach. When the man slashed again, Ambrose's hand darted out, clamping down on the man's wrist and twisting sharply. The man let out a grunt of pain and yanked his hand back. The blade retracted with the hand, but not before it sliced along the palm of Ambrose's hand. Ambrose cried out and moved farther against the wall.

At that moment, a gunshot rang out. A bullet zipped through the air close enough to Ambrose's attacker that it grazed deeply across the man's arm. The man uttered a curse under his breath and ran off.

Ambrose watched him go, breathing heavily. Footsteps echoed off of the walls, bringing his attention back as Cain appeared in front of him, gun still in hand.

"Are you all right?" he demanded.

Ambrose straightened and nodded. "Fine. It was just a mugger."

Cain eyed the blood dripping from Ambrose's hand. "We'd better get you cleaned up and have your hand looked at. While we're doing that, you can explain to me why you were sneaking out."

* * *

><p>end chapter three<p> 


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